


The Second Law of Thermodynamics and the Theory of Relativity

by Daiya_Darko



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Implied Relationships, M/M, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 04:26:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daiya_Darko/pseuds/Daiya_Darko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Energy and heat are transferred, time is not absolute - thus, is the universe. McCoy should be used to this all by now, but he still gets caught off guard and has to readjust his equations for whatever life throws at him next, including unaccounted for variables.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Second Law of Thermodynamics and the Theory of Relativity

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, I did not plan to write omegaverse for Star Trek until I realized there pretty much was none. I mean, of all fandoms, ST is one of the few that could most likely get away with it as almost being canon.
> 
> Secondly, I got tired of how heat cycles are mostly written in your standard omegaverse fic. There’s a lot of disregard for the health of omegas, and that worries me. So I took it upon myself to write omegaverse for ST in the most down-to-earth way possible while still acknowledging common tropes in omegaverse.
> 
> Oh, and there may or may not be references to canine mating pack biology. Whatever. It's frickin omegaverse, where the rules are made up and the CCs of bodily fluid lost don't matter.

“Braking system disengaged, captain.”

“Take her out of here. Warp factor 2 should do, Mr. Sulu.” Kirk smiled at his pilot and settled back in his chair. It had been a relatively simple away mission; go forth, collect data, the usual. He figured it was simple enough that he’d let Spock take a few ensigns out with him to stretch their legs and get them some field experience.

Already Kirk could tell it made all the difference: Sulu was positively glowing, as his horticulture skills were frequently called upon while they were on planet. Chekov on the other hand…

Chekov looked ill, and Kirk couldn’t figure out why. The ensign had been bubbling with excitement and knowledge about the planet, according to Spock’s log. He seemed hyper, but no more so than your usual ensign who was ready to explore.

As he tried to decide whether it was necessary to dismiss Chekov or not, the young man lurched forward, gripping tightly to the console as his body shook. Even Sulu’s face had now taken a hardened expression that bordered between concern and…arousal.

Kirk could tell, just from the smells coming from Chekov and the way his own body was reacting, that they had an emergency on their hands.

He didn’t want to embarrass the ensign, but he knew that the damage was already done.

Starfleet didn’t discriminate; they enlisted the best and brightest, regardless of sex or species, and that included omegas. It wasn’t supposed to be a problem; everyone was on suppressants anyways, male and female, and birth control implants were given to everyone.

Still, Kirk now had an omega going into heat on his bridge, and in spite of the rules, he knew he had to handle that.

“Spock, alert Mr. Sulu and Mr. Chekov’s reliefs that they’re now needed. You have the con.” Kirk never took his eyes off Chekov as he gave his order, quickly making his way to Chekov’s side and squatting to meet his eye.

“Chekov, look at me,” Kirk said quietly, trying to remain as professional as possible. Judging by Chekov’s sickly pallor, Kirk guessed this was probably his first rodeo, and he didn’t want to scare him any further than he already probably was.

Slowly, and with a shuddering intake of breath, Chekov dragged his head up and looked Kirk in the eye.

“Is this your first time?” Kirk asked softly.

“No sir.”

“When was your last cycle?”

“Years ago.” Chekov’s eyes seemed to grow heavy as he leaned toward Kirk, finding comfort in the presence of such an experienced alpha.

Kirk caught him and motioned to Sulu to help carry Chekov to sickbay. He wasn’t going to allow any chance for Chekov to be taken advantage of by other members or the crew, or allow either him or Sulu to take advantage of him in this state.

McCoy was already prepared when the three men entered the private patient room. He already had an IV set up, plenty of sanitary towels, and some pain killers for the worst of it.

This would have been so much easier if they were on earth.

McCoy flipped through Chekov’s medical history on his PADD, looking for any indication that could have prepared him for this, but right above sex, he was listed as “beta.”

McCoy’s brow furrowed; lying about medical information could lead to a dishonorable discharge and possible trial if something went wrong because of it. He was about to ask what in the hell Chekov was thinking when he heard the ensign’s low moans beginning. McCoy pushed this information to the back of his mind as he shooed Kirk and Sulu away and hooked Chekov to the IV. He began unfastening Chekov’s pants, noting how wet they already were, and discarded them in a biohazard bag. Then, McCoy pulled on some gloves and a mask and reached a thermometer between Chekov’s legs to check his core temperature. At the contact, Chekov whimpered and pressed against the tool, but McCoy held him pinned with one hand. He looked up at where Sulu and Kirk watched with predatory gazes and rolled his eyes.

All Starfleet doctors had to undergo special training in the handling of omegas in heat; they had to maintain the Hippocratic oath no matter the situation. Keeping from coming in direct contact with fluids usually helped, as well as overall conditioning, but that class was optional for everyone not in the sciences.

“If you two are going to stay, then put on some protection. The last thing we need is two alphas fighting over the kid,” McCoy ordered, and he was thankful they abided without argument. Sometimes alphas tended to ignore orders, especially when they already exhibited problematic behavior regarding authority. McCoy knew he could probably trust Kirk and Sulu since they had gotten this far without fighting, but Sulu’s shoulders were raised and tense, his face set in a deep scowl, and Kirk was wringing his hands, chewing his lip red.

“Can’t we give him a sedative to sleep through it?” Kirk asks, looking less tense already with the mask blocking out the smells.

McCoy shook his head. “Look how much fluid he’s losing already,” he pointed to the growing puddle between Chekov’s legs. “Anything we give him right now is just going to run through his system.”

“So give him a higher dose more often,” Sulu suggested, shoulders finally relaxed.

“We don’t want to give him too much at one time; he’ll go into cardiac arrest,” McCoy grumbled as he removed the thermometer. _Great, a fever._ McCoy looked at the IV bag and almost gasped at how much was already gone. At a temperature of 40 degrees Celsius, the boy was burning up and at risk of heat stroke. His body was overworking itself, preparing for a mate it had waited who knew how long for.

McCoy tried to focus; the most he could do was keep Chekov hydrated until this passed, but that could be up to five days, seven at the most. Tools were usually brought in for milder cases of heat, but Chekov’s body looked as if it were going to reject anything that didn’t have a natural knot and semen to finish.

That left one last option, and the idea excited McCoy as much as it made him nervous and slightly disgusted with himself.

“Is he in a relationship, Sulu?” McCoy quickly fired, causing the pilot to flinch.

“No sir, not that I know of,” Sulu responded, eyes suddenly growing dark. “You’re not going to –“

“It’s the only way, lieutenant,” McCoy interrupted, and he looked to Kirk who was actively avoiding his gaze.

“Jim, I know you want to say something, so just go for it.”

Kirk snorted and ran a hand through his hair. “Bones, he’s a virgin.”

“So?”

“So this is a pretty shitty way to lose your virginity, don’t you think? Getting fucked by your doctor while the captain and your best friend watch to ensure it remains professional?”

“You’re one to talk about normal circumstances under which to lose your virginity. If I recall, you were in no better position yourself.” McCoy’s mask hid his sneer, but it was apparent in his voice, and Kirk quickly drew himself up to his full height.

“And you’ve been checking out Chekov when you think no one’s watching, Bones, so maybe it’s best we don’t start putting each other’s business out in the open.”

McCoy’s growl surprised everyone in the room as he clamped a firm hand around Chekov’s leg. “He’s my patient, _captain._ ”

“And I think there’s a conflict of interest, _doctor_.” Jim fired back, walking right up to McCoy to challenge him.

McCoy was close to ripping off the mask and allowing his alpha instincts to take over when Sulu interjected, “I’m actually his friend, so maybe it would be best for me to take care of him.”

Kirk and McCoy’s head snapped in his direction so quickly that Sulu almost took a step back. “I mean, I’ll do everything exactly as you tell me to. I don’t see him as more than a friend, but I do care about him and I hate seeing him in so much pain.”

“You’re looking at about a week’s worth of sex, kid. I know you’re young, but after one day you’ll be in the bed next to him with a similar drip replacing all those nutrients. We’re not decommissioning both of you at once; you’re our best pilot. We’ll rotate a shift, that way we don’t miss much work and it lowers the chances of bonding from occurring.” McCoy explained, settling the matter.

Kirk ran out to deliver a message to Spock, while McCoy began recording Chekov’s vitals, keeping track of his sodium levels and temperature. In the back of his mind, he thought about what Kirk had said – _You’ve been checking out Chekov when you think no one is looking –_ and it surprised him. He hadn’t really been looking, had he? And even so, he couldn’t help it; the kid was young, bouncy, and cute. Everyone’s a little attracted to Chekov.

McCoy caught Sulu watching him with some doubt, and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes.   
“Wanna voice a concern yourself?”

Sulu shrugged, then said, “If you really do like Pavel, I mean, you know…then will you bond with him if he asks?”

McCoy laid down the PADD and sighed. “Right now, this is a medical emergency. Look, he’s barely coherent,” McCoy motioned toward where Pavel laid, soaked, eyes closed, panting, and occasionally whimpering and convulsing as his cramps overtook him. It was a sad sight, but it wouldn’t last for long, and hopefully it would break soon if they all took turns tending to him. “He can’t consent to anything with a clear mind, so I wouldn’t put him in that position. Hell, no one should,” McCoy scowled.

Kirk returned and in one sweeping movement, pulled his captain’s shirt off and tossed it onto a counter. He began to unfasten his pants, but McCoy held up a hand to stop him.

“I’m going first to show you both what to do.”

Kirk looked like he wanted to argue, but instead nodded. “Right, of course. Go ahead, Bones. Show us something we probably can do better than you.”

McCoy knew Kirk was joking, but it didn’t stop his nostrils from flaring or his fists from balling. He forced himself to relax and approached the bed, pulling Chekov down until his legs dangled over the edge. Pulling out stirrups, McCoy carefully set up Chekov so that his legs were spread, and even with the mask, the scent was almost overpowering. In the corner of his eye, McCoy saw Sulu and Kirk both step forward before catching themselves. McCoy rolled his eyes and undid his pants.

“The SOP for Chronic Heat Syndrome is to mate in a way that makes bonding difficult or impossible, but still relieves the symptoms.” Looking down at Chekov’s prostrate body, McCoy swallowed nervously. “Standing or mounting from the bottom are the preferred methods. You must also use some form of barrier such as a prophylactic, and no kissing should take place.” McCoy blushed at the last statement and shrugged. “Saliva transfers pheromones and it can sway your judgment. We have to keep our heads clear at all times.”

McCoy waited for an acknowledgement of understanding before searching the cabinets for a box of condoms. He grabbed one and tossed the box to Kirk. “I trust you’re familiar with these, given the lack of little Jims running around.”

Kirk smiled. “Never let it be said that I’m irresponsible.”

“Oh trust me; there’s plenty else that can be said of you,” McCoy grunted with a smile. He refocused his attention on Chekov, who had begun whimpering again. Slowly, McCoy laid a gloved hand on his crotch, and Chekov’s hips lifted, yearning for more friction. McCoy rubbed him a little while, shushing his moans and sliding off the drenched boxer briefs. He’d need totally new clothes by the time this was over, and McCoy made a mental note to have Sulu bring some.

Once Chekov had stopped moving as much, McCoy braced himself with one hand on the bed and guided himself into Chekov’s loose, slick hole. He paused once the head was in and took a deep breath, stilling himself and restraining from just slamming in wildly.

McCoy cursed under his breath, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. It had been a long time since he’d had sex, his last sexual conquest some young girl at a bar who immediately regretted it when she had sobered up the next morning. Now, he could only hope Chekov wouldn’t respond the same way when this was over.

With slow thrusts, McCoy kept an eye on the screen over the bio bed, tracking Chekov’s heart rate and surface temperature. Already, he was beginning to regain some of his consciousness, and the color was returning to his cheeks. Through bleary eyes, he looked up at McCoy, who blinked and quickly averted his gaze to where his dick was pumping into Chekov with medical precision.

Chekov started to sit up, but McCoy pushed a gentle yet firm hand against his abdomen, forcing him to lie down again.

“Easy there, kid. Don’t want you to hurt yourself,” McCoy explained quietly, and he took Chekov’s hand in his own, intertwining their fingers to give Chekov something to hold on to.

It made a difference; Chekov’s body relaxed considerably, and McCoy was able to move faster, grunting with the force of his thrusts into Chekov’s pliant body as he squirmed and moaned on the bed. McCoy grabbed for Chekov’s cock and began jerking it in earnest. Getting an omega to orgasm usually at least allowed them a few hours of sleep after sex, but most alphas were more concerned with getting their knot inside and impregnating their partner. McCoy almost cursed at the thought; there was nothing more annoying than an inconsiderate lover, and omegas needed someone who would always be looking out for their best interests.

McCoy briefly thought about what it might be like to be Chekov’s alpha. He’d certainly be protective, and he’d definitely keep others away. Most everyone was afraid of him, and if they could smell his mark on Chekov…

McCoy was brought back to the present by the tautness of Chekov’s muscles as he came, semen spilling forth over McCoy’s hand and onto Chekov’s belly. McCoy sighed with relief; at least he still had enough fluids and energy for an orgasm, so that was a good sign. McCoy was tempted to stop at that point, but he wanted to ensure Chekov’s body thought it had bonded, which meant it needed to register the scent of an alpha that had reached orgasm.

McCoy tried to focus on the task at hand, tried to ignore the scent of competition watching from the side, and thought again about bonding with Chekov. They could have cute babies, ones with curly brown hair, pouty lips, and pretty eyes…

McCoy felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness wash over him and the ball of heat low in his stomach begin to spread as he came, pulling out ever so slightly to keep his knot from getting caught completely. It was in just enough to press the small bundle of nerves that would tell Chekov’s body it could relax for a while, but not so far in that he couldn’t pull out, throw away the condom and clean himself up.

He tried to avoid the looks of Kirk and Sulu as he got dressed again, instead grumbling about how to pull out properly and that he’d be back in at the end of his shift to check on things. He left without another word, and tried to ignore the growing feeling of fondness for Chekov.

* * *

 

Kirk looked over at Sulu before checking the chronometer. “It’s about lunch time and he’s gonna need a nap. Want to get a bite to eat?”

Sulu nodded numbly, his alpha instincts still tapering off slowly now that Chekov smelled as if he had been mated.

“So you didn’t know he was an omega, huh?” Kirk asked, making small talk as they threw away their masks and gloves.

Sulu shrugged. “He said he took pills, but I thought they were like, for ADHD or something. I didn’t really pry.”

“But you’re friends?”

Sulu stopped and glared at Kirk. “What are you trying to say?”

Kirk held up his hands in defense. “I’m just saying. Bones and I are friends, and I know his entire medical history. He knows everything I’m allergic to, my sexual history, and more. You just seemed so close to Pavel that I figured he would have been honest with you.”

Sulu sighed and rubbed his face. “He’s bright, he’s eager, and he likes to talk, but never about himself.”

Kirk’s eyes widened in understanding. “Judging by the way Bones was looking at his file, you’re probably not the only person he lied to.”

“Is he going to be discharged after this?”

Kirk was quiet as they made their way to the turbolift. “I’m not sure. All of this will be logged into Starfleet’s medical records, there might be an internal affairs investigation, but probably nothing will happen.”

“Probably?”

Kirk stopped the lift and gave Sulu a steady look. “Listen, I’m going to tell you something that can’t be repeated anywhere to anyone.”

Sulu swallowed and nodded. “I understand.”

“Bones doesn’t always report injuries and allergic reactions on medical reports.”

“What? But – “

“Do you realize how many people would be discharged or not given a chance if they were honest? We have the cream of the crop when it comes to duty performance on the Enterprise. Seriously, we have an amazing crew. Do you know how hard it is getting someone new to replace a crewman just because that crewman might have a seizure?”

“Do you know the risk of that?”

“It can be treated, therefore it’s none of Starfleet’s business. What we’re doing…what Pavel’s going through? They don’t need to know. He’s incredibly young, but he’s also needed a weight voucher to get into Starfleet because he couldn’t meet the minimum weight requirements. He barely got in; imagine if they knew he was an omega too.”

It suddenly occurred to Sulu what his captain said made sense, and he couldn’t help feeling a little angry that Starfleet would prevent admission just for something as simple as weight. With a sigh of resignation, he hit the lift button, and they continued on in silence.

* * *

 

Sleep didn’t come easily to McCoy.

He tossed and turned with worry over Chekov’s health. He had never known someone to have such bad heat cycles. Sure, it was something he had studied, but like with mending fractured bones, it’s different when it’s right there in front of you, as opposed to a text book.

He tried to put out the memory of what it felt like to have Chekov underneath him, so needy and trusting, but it was all he could think of. Absent-mindedly, he palmed his semi-erection through his pants and exhaled with the relief of built-up pressure.

Stroking his cock, McCoy thought about what Chekov would be like in bed when he wasn’t almost unconscious from heat stroke. _He’s probably eager and willing to please,_ McCoy thought to himself, and felt his balls tighten. He thought about Chekov’s lips swollen around his cock, making slick, hungry noises as he swallowed McCoy like a pro.

The doctor came with a curse and sat up to pull his shirt off to clean up with it. He couldn’t keep jerking off like this; he needed to save his energy and stamina for Chekov.

* * *

 

McCoy entered Chekov’s room early before his shift started. His readings were looking considerably better, with his fever having broken and his skin’s color slowly returning.

As McCoy made note of his condition, he heard Chekov stir and looked up. “Good morning, kid. You had us really worried yesterday.”

Chekov smacked his lips dryly, and McCoy handed him a cup of water, careful to not to make physical contact.

“Thank you, doctor,” his voice cracked, and he laid back against the pillows. “Are you going to tell Starfleet?”

McCoy had wondered about this as well, even going as far as to talk to Kirk about their situation. “No, I figure you’ve worked hard enough to get this far and it wouldn’t be fair to kick you out over something like this.”

Chekov smiled and grabbed McCoy’s hand. “Thank you! I promise I won’t forget again.”

McCoy didn’t want to pull away, but just touching Chekov made his pants grow tighter. “How’d you forget anyways? I’m going to put you on an implant like the others.”

Chekov blushed. “Our away mission lasted longer than I anticipated and I overslept, so I rushed to get to the bridge and forgot to take my medicine.

McCoy looked incredulous as he listened to Chekov speak. “You missed one dose and that happened? What are you taking and how long have you been on it?”

“It is deoxyprogesterone, 60 mg and I’ve been taking it since my first cycle when I was fourteen.

“Sixty mil is pretty steep for someone your size. Your body probably built up a dependency on it. I can’t put you on anything right now, but as soon as you’re through, it’s straight to the implant, ensign.”

Chekov smiled tiredly up at McCoy and squeezed his hand. “Is it time for you to treat me now, doctor?”

Something about the way Chekov phrased his question made McCoy want to bolt to the nearest wall comm unit and ask for Kirk, for Sulu, for someone other than him, because he couldn’t trust himself. Then, his innate senses held him in place, and McCoy forced himself to remain. Nodding, he went to grab the necessary equipment, pausing only to take Chekov’s core temperature. It had come down two degrees, but his sodium and potassium levels were severely lacking. McCoy checked the drip, adjusted a few knobs, and moved Chekov’s feet into position.

McCoy tried to ignore the protein count levels; usually an alpha provided enough in their sperm to provide additional nutrients to be metabolized into an omega’s system. That was why they knotted and came for so long; the appeasement of basic nutrients made the omega’s body more receptive to continual mating. He’d just have to change up Chekov’s liquid supplements after this.

Chekov whimpered at the initial breach of McCoy’s erection past his sphincter, then his muscles slackened as he closed his eyes and relaxed into the slow, careful movements of McCoy’s hips. McCoy didn’t know where to look; looking at where their bodies connected awakened something primal in him, but watching Chekov’s face and how relieved and happy he appeared…

There was another sound, one that startled McCoy’s eyes open, and he was surprised to realize it was his own low growling. Biting his lip, he muttered a low apology, to which Chekov replied breathlessly, “It is alright, doctor. I should hope at least one of us is enjoying themselves.”

Despite their situation, McCoy chuckled and reached for Chekov’s hand again. Chekov smiled softly at him and moaned when McCoy’s other hand went to work jerking him off. Within a few minutes, Chekov came with a bit off whine, hand gripping McCoy’s painfully tight. McCoy tried to slow his hips, but everything about Chekov’s body was telling his own to move _faster,_ to thrust _harder._ McCoy indulged himself a bit, replaying Chekov’s words, and braced himself with both hands against the bed as he put some power behind his thrusts. In doing so, Chekov began to grow hard again, gasping as McCoy pounded into him roughly, breath catching in his throat. Chekov muttered a soft, “Please,” and McCoy’s hand slipped forward on the bed, wet with sweat. He meant to pull out, but the motion lurched him forward as his knot came, and he was locked within Chekov.

McCoy began cursing silently in his head; he knew how long he’d be there, and winced at the sensation of his orgasm being so constrained by thin plastic. He looked down at the bed and realized that Chekov had sweated and lubricated up a puddle underneath him that dripped over the sides of the bed. The glove was pointless at this point, as well as the mask and condom; McCoy would have to fight to keep his head as clear as possible. Usually, post-orgasm was when careless words and promises and pleas were thrown between the alpha and omega, and many unsatisfied marriages begun that way.

“Are you stuck?” Chekov asked innocently. He really had never had a knot before, and that amazed McCoy as much as he hated that it pleased him.

“Afraid so. Sorry about that,” McCoy muttered, removing his glove before running a hand over his brow to push his hair from his face. “I bet this isn’t the way you had planned to lose your virginity.”

“It is not so bad. I would rather someone who knew what they were doing and took so much care to make sure I remained healthy,” Chekov reassured him, patting McCoy’s hand.

For a moment, McCoy wondered if now would be a good time to bring up bonding. He immediately ditched the thought and chalked it up to the direct exposure to pheromones. He couldn’t say anything, wouldn’t allow it to be discussed if at all possible.

Chekov seemed to read his expression, however, and asked, “Is what the captain said true? That you like me?”

McCoy waited a few seconds to answer. “I think you’re attractive and damned brighter than most of the people on this ship. I like that. But I won’t have this conversation with you until you’re not being held in place by my dick. Sound fair?”

Chekov giggled tiredly, and finally McCoy felt himself free enough to move. Slipping out, carefully holding the condom in place, he gave Chekov’s thigh a final pat and cleaned them both up.

* * *

 

Chekov was all Sulu could think about. He had mates before, but Chekov was the only one he was ever so careful with. He attributed this to having an emotional attachment to Chekov before he even knew about his omega status, but it didn’t change the way he worried frequently during shift. Chekov was his best friend, and probably the smartest person on the ship, although he’d never admit it.

It wasn’t anything romantic that drove Sulu to wanting to keep Kirk away from Chekov; it was just friendly instinct. Kirk was a predator in the strictest sense of the word, and while Sulu could acknowledge that in himself, he at least was discriminate about his prey.

Watching Kirk mount Chekov, watching the way his concentrated frown broke into a sleazy grin halfway through as his movement grew rougher and sloppier…

Sulu found himself growling deep in his chest. He could trust McCoy; Kirk’s jab about presumed conflicted interests was just him trying to eliminate competition. It was the same with challenging the depth of their friendship.

But Sulu wouldn't let it get to him. As far as he was concerned, he still had orders to follow.

* * *

 

Fourth day in, McCoy felt the last twinges of his control snap. He was fine inside Chekov, around Chekov, touching him skin to skin – it was being in the same room as Chekov when Jim was around that wa the problem. Sulu seemed to feel the same way, and the proximity to someone just as on edge as him made things more frustrating than usual.

Unfortunately, the one person who didn’t seem fazed by their clear body language was Kirk, which meant he was the problem.

McCoy grabbed Sulu quickly by the elbow as they watched Kirk slide into Chekov, grunting and growling with half-worded descriptions of what he wanted to do to Chekov outside of sickbay. At that, it was Sulu holding McCoy back, but only barely. Kirk hesitated in pulling out, smirking at the way Chekov begged him for release, and McCoy broke out of Sulu’s grip.

He charged Kirk, backing him up against a wall, snarling, hand wrapped around his neck as he spit out, “You’re the lousiest goddamn fuck I’ve ever seen!”

Kirk fought back, baring his teeth, and dragging his nails down the side of McCoy’s face and neck. “Let me go! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

McCoy slammed Kirk back against the wall and pinned his hands on either side of him. “All that fuckin’ talkin, all that damned teasin’ buildin’ up to not a goddamn thing,” McCoy pulled Kirk down to the ground, holding him face down on the floor with an arm twisted behind his back. “You have no control whatsoever! You’re just as bad as the other alphas that fuck their partners into heatstroke and right into hospital beds!”

Kirk bucked back against McCoy, trying to free himself, but finally relinquished control when he felt McCoy’s teeth bite down at the crook of his neck and shoulder. Kirk inhaled deeply as he let McCoy assert his authority and splayed his hands out in front of him as a sign of submission. Slowly, McCoy eased up, pulling Kirk to his feet as well.

“I want you to apologize to the ensign, Jim,” McCoy said levelly, guiding Kirk to the bed where a frightened Chekov sat, Sulu half-blocking him.

Kirk glanced downwards and mumbled a quiet apology as he fixed himself back together. Satisfied, McCoy shoved him toward the door, then nodded his thanks to Sulu.

“Think he’ll reprimand me for that?” McCoy asked, only half-serious.

Sulu grinned. “I’d like to see him try.”

* * *

 

When Chekov was finally cleared for duty, McCoy breathed a sigh of relief and sent a few techs in to decontaminate the private room from a week’s worth of mating. It smelled like a pissing contest on top of an orgy, and McCoy didn’t want to be reminded of it every time he went in there.

Watching Chekov practically bounce out of sickbay with a new birth control implant and vitals at a perfect balance filled McCoy with pride. Aside from Kirk’s behavior, which was mostly just rude and not actually procedurally out of line, everything had gone smoothly. Even patching things up with Jim went easier than expected, and he only got a few punches to the shoulder for his trouble.

All in all, McCoy could write this off as a good experience, and one he’d never send to Starfleet. Too much bureaucracy to deal with.

Returning to his quarters at the end of his shift, McCoy looked forward to some long-needed rest and maybe a stiff drink, but the presence of Chekov standing outside his quarters quickly chased those thoughts away.

“Ensign,” McCoy nodded briskly, “I hope you’re here for a casual visit and not some crippling emergency.”

“It is of a personal nature, but certainly not crippling,” Chekov smiled. McCoy found himself returning the smile and holding his arm out as the door slid open to his quarters. Following Chekov in, McCoy watched as he paused, overcome with the strong scent of _mine mine mine_ and _alpha._ McCoy patted his shoulder and made his way around to sit in his easy chair.

“What can I do for you?”

“You said we could talk about your feelings for me after…” Chekov trailed off, looking away quickly. “I thought that would be good to do now.”

McCoy rubbed his face tiredly. “Are you sure about this?”

Chekov took a tentative few steps closer. “Why would I not?”

“Because I’m older than you by a significant amount, because I took your virginity on accident, because I nearly killed our beloved captain for not treating you right. Obviously, I’m not the most stable person in the universe.”

“But you were stable for me,” Chekov finally closes the distance between them and kneels at McCoy’s feet. He touches McCoy’s knee with a gentle hand, looking up at him with an eagerness McCoy would be blind to not see. “You did everything in your power to make me comfortable and safe. You put me before yourself. And you being older does not make it a bad thing; it just means you have a lot to teach me.”

McCoy sighed and pulled Chekov up to sit on the arm of the chair, half facing him. “You sound like you’ve thought this through like Spock, but I need you to think like Jim right now, however contrary that sounds – tell me what you _want_ , not what you think is logical.”

“Why must the two be mutually exclusive?”

“Because I deal in absolutes – either you’re in this because you want to be or you’re not really happy and grow resentful of me.” McCoy bit his lip; he hadn’t meant for that last part to slip through.

Chekov reached a slow hand to McCoy’s face and forces him to meet his gaze. “Men who deal in absolutes play poker with only two cards: a joker and an ace. Do you think so little of my emotional maturity?” Chekov looked genuinely hurt, and McCoy found himself reaching for his waist sliding him into his lap.

Rubbing his face against Chekov’s shoulder, McCoy said, “I don’t want to stunt your emotional growth by fucking things up while you’re still so young.”

“Doctor, I am eighteen, not eight, and I have survived two disasters. Any damage you could do has already missed its chance. Now, do you trust me to think for myself as I have in the past?”

McCoy chuckled. “I suppose so. I may need time to warm up to you and not see you as dehydrated and sweating on a bio bed while Jim and Sulu look on, though.”

Chekov turned himself around completely and presses a soft kiss to McCoy’s lips. No longer barred by medical or health restraints, McCoy devoured the kiss hungrily, pulling Chekov flush against his body as he hummed with approval. Breaking away, Chekov shuddered with arousal. “That is fine. Time is not absolute, after all.”


End file.
